Confessions of a Chocoholic
by UlquiorraNoKokoro
Summary: Mello, ten years old, is constantly wreaking havoc at Wammy's House with Matt and a reluctant Near. This is a story about their adventures. Mello-POV, journal-wise. NO PAIRINGS. T for mild swearing and Mello's slight gutter mind.
1. Poopy JournalNotDiary

**Hi guys! I know I should be working on my Ulquiorra fic, but I got this spark and then it caught on fire, so this was born. Plus, I've wanted to do a Mello fanfic for a really long time, so...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note.**

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December 13

Hey. My name's Mello. My best friend is Matt and my best frienemy is Near. He is a twit. (Not Matt. Near.)

I turned ten today. But you're an inanimate object, so I guess you won't be wishing me a happy birthday, now will you?

If you're wondering what my birthday present was, that's where you come in, you dumb diary. I called you dumb because Matt got a new video game for his birthday back in February and all I get is a boring little notebook.

And what am I supposed to write in here? My _feelings_? I'm not a girl, retard. Even though Matt keeps telling me I look like one. Yeah, right. Like _he_ can talk. He still plays Barbie doll games (ew) and Jigglypuff is still his favorite Pokemon. I can't see why. I mean, sorry, but fat pink balls of stupid aren't really _that_ likable. All it does is put people to sleep with its demented song and write on its victims' faces. And it's completely useless in the game. Sometimes I get the feeling that Matt only likes Jigglypuff because he's in love with it or something.

I just decided that you aren't a diary anymore. You're officially a journal now, because journals are way manlier than diaries. Only girls have diaries. They write down all their gross romantic feelings in their "diaries," and I don't have any gross feelings like that, which makes you a journal. Actually, the most common emotion I ever feel is the small disappointment you get when you finish a really, really good chocolate bar.

Near is sitting in his emo corner doing one of those puzzles of his. I bet he only does the 5000-piece ones to show off.

And why does Near get the single bed? Me and Matt are stuck on a bunk. And of course Mr. Game Freak here gets to sleep on the top cot. He's up there right now playing Pokemon Emerald and laughing maniacally whenever he beats a gym leader. I think _he's_ showing off too.

Back to the _Near-has-the-single-bed_ rant.

I mean, seriously, just because he doesn't have to share a bunk with a redheaded gamer who's got a chronic snoring problem doesn't mean he's specialer than us (even though he's convinced he is). I don't even think specialer is a word, but I'm gonna use it anyway. I have to get the point across somehow, you know.

Near, if you're reading this, I want you to know that you are NOT specialer than me and Matt. _We_ are specialer than _you_ because at least _we're _colorful. You're just a white blob sitting on the floor stacking dominos. At least me and Matt have the gift of not-boringness.

Anyway, Matt and I are gonna be way hotter than Near when we grow up. He's gonna be so obese because all he does is nothing. I mean, I have a chocolate addiction, but at least I know how to kick a ball. That little braggart can't even get the thing to the goal without picking it up and carrying it. Which is something he actually does every time we make him play soccer with us so he has an excuse to get kicked out of the game.

I'm watching TV right now. The Jonas brothers are on tour from America and they're singing some totally lame song about their great-great-great-granddaughter. They are so gay. I'm not even kidding. And they're annoying too. I really wish they would just go die in their homo-holes.

I should probably be doing my essay right now (the topic is "What it Means to Be L"), but I have, like, zero motivation at the moment. Maybe when I get mad at Near I'll write the essay as an excuse to rant. Or maybe I'll write it when I feel especially passionate about my dreams, which is not going to happen any time soon because I'm really pissed about getting you for a birthday present instead of getting a giant box of candy, you stinky notebook. (I mean, seriously, is a lifetime supply of chocolate _really_ too much to ask for? Jeez.)

The clock says ten o'clock. Maybe we should go to bed soon…

OMG! It's ten-oh-one now!

(I was being sarcastic. Yes, I'm really that bored.)

I'm in my boxers and T-shirt now instead of my daytime clothes, because I'm tired and bored and I'm about to quit writing.

Good night. You poopy little journal-not-diary.

―Mello

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**Do you see that button that says review? Yes, you do. NOW CLICK IT AND LEAVE ME A REVIEW BEFORE I EAT YOU.**


	2. Ink Bomb

**I know this story is remarkably un-epic so far, but I think this chapter is better than chapter one. PLEASE NOTE that at the end I am NOT implying a future yaoi. This is strictly friendship. If you want to interpret this story as a yaoi, well... I can't do anything about that, but the Wammy Boys aren't gay. At least, not in this story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters.**

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December 14

Mello here.

The teacher thinks I'm taking notes, but I'm actually writing this right now. Sucker.

You know, now that I think about it, saying "sucker" is more offensive to say to a guy than it is to say to a girl. Luckily, my teacher's male. Haha.

Near is sitting beside me. He's being the diligent student I'm not and is actually listening to Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name drone on about subordinate clauses.

I'm usually a better student than this, but today is special.

See, Matt and I had decided last night that we were going to blow up Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name's favorite dry-erase marker. So at around midnight we stole the key to the classroom from Watari's office and planted a miniature paint bomb in the part of the marker that distributes the ink. The bomb set so that it detonates right when he pulls the cap off.

The only reason we thought of this particular prank was because Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name has this weird habit of pulling the cap off of the marker toward his face, so when the paint bomb (which has to be red because that's the color of the marker) explodes, he'll have a faceful of ink.

All is going well so far. The prank hasn't been carried out yet. Me and Matt have made eye contact about twenty times in the past three minutes, because the teacher has been moving closer to the board.

Mr. I-Forgot-His-Name's picking up the marker now. I'm on the edge of my seat and Matt probably is too.

And oh my God, he's telling Near to write a subordinate clause on the board.

Near is taking the marker. I remember that Matt and I fitted a rubber band right below the cap so it'd be harder to get off.

The Twit's trying to uncap the bomb now. Matt and I exchange excited glances.

"Ah!" we hear.

All eyes are on the Twit.

And then absolute chaos breaks lose, because Near's got a giant red spot right on the crotch of his pants.

"I knew he was a girl!" I laughed. "Matt, I _told_ you!"

Matt's laughing too, but he looks a little guilty about it.

I'm not, though. This is by far the best day of my life.

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I'm about to go to bed, but first I have a confession to make.

I apologized to Near at lunch for the whole red pants thing and told him the entire story about the ink bomb.

I mean, I wasn't all that guilty about it until I saw him bawling his eyes out after class. "What a weenie! I thought he was tougher than that," was my initial thought, until the shame set in.

Look, Near is only eight, and I completely humiliated him today. So I didn't have much choice.

At least he didn't tell on us. If he was that kind of kid, I would've gotten someone to tell someone to tell someone to tell someone to tell someone to hand him an anonymous apology. Or maybe I wouldn't have bothered to say sorry at all.

I'm going to sleep now.

―Mello

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**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


	3. Let's Kill Blinky

**Hey, guys! I know that SOMEONE (I hate you, Stuart) posted a review about how the Jonas Brothers and Pokemon Emerald weren't around back in '99. I already know that. I also know that the song "Year 3000" was not out when Mello was ten, but I have no intention of changing it, because this is purely a crack-fic. Please ignore those kind of mistakes, because chances are I'll know I've made it. Thanks. :3**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I'm not worthy.

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December 15

Today I started reading a book called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. This morning I was walking around the library and I saw the word "chocolate," so I decided I might as well read it. And the author's got a weird name, too. Roald Dahl or something. I think he's Norwegian.

I want a Golden Ticket really bad. There's a river of chocolate in that factory, I don't have one… maybe I could counterfeit one or something.

"Ha, Blinky! Who's your daddy now, huh?!?" Matt keeps saying. He's gaming on the Pacman machine in the corner.

But I can't have someone yelling while I'm fantasizing about a chocolate factory.

"Shut up, Matt! I'm describing a really good book here and I don't want to hear about you murdering video game characters. Homocidal jerk."

"Mello, I can't believe you're really using that diary," Matt is grumbling. "I'm embarrassed to be your best friend. You're such a pansy."

"How am I a pansy, retard? I'm bored so writing in this stupid journal-not-diary is all I can think to do. Besides, the book I'm describing in here is about chocolate."

"Oh. I want to read a book like that. Can I borrow it after you finish?"

"Yeah, sure."

Do you see how fast the mood of a conversation between best friends can change?

Now since I feel like a total daffodil for writing in this ridiculous journal, I think I'll quit for now. Matt is so mean.

From,

Mello (who may not actually let his best friend borrow his book because chances are he'll never see it again)

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**Please review! I work off of reviews. R****ight now, I'm just running off of dream-gasoline, so that means if I don't get any feedback sooner or later I'll run out of fuel and lose interest in the story.**

******SO REVIEW. (If you don't, I hope you go bald.)**


	4. Runaways!

**Nothing to say up here in the memo that NO ONE READS. Except that I changed the rating from K+ to T. I think that K+ is a little mild for this story... xDDD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, people. This wouldn't be on FF if I did.**

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December 16

Matt, Near, and I have decided to run away from Wammy's. Actually, I was the one who did most of the deciding. Matt just said sure when I asked him. I don't know if he was really listening, considering he had his nose stuck in a GameBoy Advance, but I needed him to come along.

I asked Near to come too. (Mainly so me and Matt could cannibalize him if we ran out of PBJs, but _he_ doesn't know that. We didn't think it would go over too well, so we didn't tell him.)

We're packing right now.

By _we_ I mean _Matt_. He's doing most of the packing. And I also made him sneak down to the kitchen and steal food out of the fridge. Maybe I'll be a slave driver when I grow up.

Anyway, are you wondering why we're running away?

(Well, if you are, you shouldn't be, because this is obviously _not_ your journal. But I'll tell you anyway because it's pretty impressive you even found this thing, considering I have a super-secret hiding place. Even though to open it up and read it you must be a real nosy ass.)

We're going to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

I know. I'm such a genius.

So here's the game plan:

1. Bust out of this stupid orphanage.  
2. Track down Roald Dahl.  
3. Interrogate him with questions about the factory.  
4. Infiltrate the factory and assassinate Charlie.  
5. Enslave the Oompa-Loompas and force them to make more chocolate.

Okay, we're all packed now. I'm tying up bed sheets (just pausing to write this), so we can all climb out the window.

The bed sheets are all tied now.

"Where are we _going_?" Near keeps asking.

I kind of want to say, "All in due time, my child, all in due time," but that would make me sound like an old man.

OMMFG! I almost forgot my chocolate stash. But I won't take all of it, because we may have to come back to get more supplies.

Now we're packed and ready to go. I'll write more later.

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Near, Matt, and I have decided to spend the first night right outside Wammy's gates to get used to living outdoors, which means our escape hasn't really begun yet. (I'm using the light from a street lamp to see what I'm writing right now.)

Actually, we're only spending the night here because Matt's GameBoy is dead and there weren't any AA batteries in the basement. So really we're just waiting for Roger to get some more.

Anyway, Near looks like he always does, except maybe a little bit more irritated. After all, I guess Matt and I _did_ kind of force him to come along… but that's okay, because he's our emergency food source. There are sacrifices that must be made, if and when the time comes.

Matt is sulking because he'll have to go through the whole night without his game. You know, I really can't relate to that guy.

Well, I'm kinda afraid of homosexual pedophiles, so I'm going back to the campsite. Except it's not a campsite, it's just a regular-sized tent with three sleeping bags.

See you tomorrow, whoever's reading this (even though you really shouldn't be, you know).

Sincerely,  
Mello (whose hair is going to be very messy in the morning)

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**Before you give me a flame saying that Roald Dahl is deceased, think about how this first story arc would end if given that fact. Because I know the guy is not among the living anymore. So just go along with it.**

**My sister is singing "Don't Forget" by Demi Lovato right now. Imouto-chan _cannot_ sing.**

**Anyway, please review! I need feedback. I only finished this chapter today because someone just reviewed not too long ago. xD So REVIEW!!!!!1!!11!!!!one!!!!!!!!!!**


	5. Mushrooms and DoubleDecker Buses

**I made you guys wait a long time, so I gave you a long chapter with TWO (not one) _long _journal entries. Sorry for neglecting to update for so long. I've been brainstorming so many KHR fanfictions (and one or two for APH) that I kind of forgot about the Wammy gang.**

**By the way, this chapter isn't long because I was being nice; it's long because I started writing and couldn't stop. I actually had to tell myself to quit writing because I'd been procrastinating this for too long and plus I didn't want to get you all spoiled by this long chapter. Please consider this an unusually long chapter, and not something that's going to become orthodox. Mainly because I'm super lazy. So sorry if the ending sounds a little forced. :P**

**Anyway, enjoy...**

**OH! I almost forgot: There's a major Naruto reference, but as far as I can tell, it's not a spoiler. If you think it is, please message me or review or something, and I'll see what I can do.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters.**

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December 17

It's around five o'clock in the morning. I was just sneaking back up into the orphanage to get Matt's batteries, which there were somehow more of (how early does Roger get up, anyway?). Now all I have to do is wake up the other too.

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We're around three to four miles away from Wammy's now. Since none of us are older than ten years old, we're running out of energy more quickly than I would like. I hate childhood.

Anyway, we stopped to eat a quick lunch near a more forested area at noon. This was mainly because we all had to pee, and trees were the best toilets we could find. At least we're not girls, who have sit down to use the toilet. Gee, am I glad to be male.

Right when I was coming back after using the toile_tree_, I saw a rainbow mushroom. And it was glowing, which wasn't normal. I almost bent down and grabbed it, but I didn't know if it was poisonous or not, so I left it.

I led the other two to the mushroom. Near looked at it and said, "It's dyed all those colors."

But food shouldn't have any say in things, so Matt and I ignored him. Actually, it was just me, because I'm the only one of us who has a rational thought process.

Matt just had to press the little twit to explain. "You think?" he said.

"Yes," Near replied. "Toadstools are usually monochromatic."

I hate Near. He thinks he's so smart just because he knows what _monochromatic_ means.

And then, whaddaya know, there were more shiny rainbow mushrooms down the path. So, I thought, I must have finally found the path to the unknown city in which the chocolate factory resides! (Don't you just love my vocabulary and wording structure? I'm so smart.)

I told Matt and Near that we may have something special on our hands, and that we should totally follow the mushrooms. Matt plays too many video games, so of course he was like, "Yeah, totally! I bet it'll lead to Vermillion City. At first you can only get there by boat, but I don't feel like battling Gary. You know, that guy is so annoying. Always picking the Charmander when I pick the Bulbasaur! Get a spine, man! He's such a coward… if he wanted to show me how awesome of a Trainer he is, he should get a Pokemon that has a disadvantage to mine and beat me _then_!"

(Of course Matt's rant was way longer and way more agonizing than _that_, but I'd started tuning him out right around there, so don't ask for anymore questions about what the hell he was talking about. I'm just lucky I can even _spell_ "Charmander" and "Bulbasaur.")

Near was harder to please, but, hey, his comfort was not exactly on the top of my priority list. Sorry, but if he'd been expecting _comfort_, well, he shouldn't have decided to come along with us.

Oh wait, I forgot. He didn't. It was completely against his will.

That aside, I'll explain the situation now.

Matt, Near, and I followed the mushrooms, and we've ended up at some weirdo's grave. There's an inscription written in kanji/hiragana―I'm kind of rusty on my Japanese, so this might not be accurate―and I think it says something along the lines of _Orochimaru_. I don't really know who that is or what that means (or why the heck there's a Japanese grave in the middle of a forest in England), but it's kind of creepy.

Well, whether it's creepy or not, we have to sleep here tonight, because this is a nice big clearing, and I don't think it's private property. Anyway, it's starting to get too dark for me to write, so bye for now.

From,

Mello (who does not want to sleep on a grave)

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December 18

Last night was not fun.

I saw a ghost. It was, like, coming out of the grave, and I had to wake Matt up. He was like, "What the heck's wrong with you, Mello?"

"I saw a ghost," I replied. "The grave. We've got to get away from the grave."

Matt rolled his eyes (well, that's what he probably did; it was too dark to really see). "There is no ghost," he replied, switching on a flashlight and pointing it in different directions.

And…

"Oh, God!" he whispered, beaming the light toward a tree.

I slunk a little deeper into my sleeping bag. "A ghost?!"

"No!"

"Then _what_?"

"There's a dead body hanging from that tree!"

This is pretty embarrassing, but I did yelp (involuntarily, of course).

"Haha, just kidding. You're so easy to spook, Mello."

"Shut up!"

"But there _is_ a snake over there."

That time he was telling the truth, because I saw it myself. It was completely white, but it didn't look harmful, so I decided that we should just ignore it. Besides, spirits were what we _should_ have been afraid of.

"Matt, a snake's nothing compared to a ghost. Ghosts will eat your head."

"I'm not scared of the snake, and ghosts don't exist!"

"Yes, they do!"

"I'm trying to sleep," a bored-but-rather-annoyed-but-still-pretty-bored-sounding voice said.

Yes, Near still uses a monotone even if he's cranky. And he's a frickin' _eight-year-old_. He's never gonna get a girlfriend, I'm telling you.

Anyway, I had less trouble going back to sleep because I knew Matt and Near were awake (unconscious people are no use against ghosts, you see).

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It's about noon now. We're all tired because of the ghosts. (Actually, just Matt and Near. I think they're annoyed at me.)

Anyway, because the mushrooms apparently didn't lead to Wonka's chocolate factory, I'm going to have to stick with the original plan (interrogating Roald Dahl). But how were we going to find him? Where'd the book say he lived again?

I brought these questions up, and Near and Matt gave me funny looks.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "He was recently living in Great Missenden… but that's almost across England. How are we supposed to get from Winchester to―" I stopped. "I know! Let's hijack a car."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Right. Let's do that. Yup. _'Three male kid geniuses hijack a car and get away!'_ I can see the newspaper headline already."

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Matt," I warned.

"Who are you, my mother?"

"You don't have a mother!"

"Mello, that was mean!"

Near finally cut in. "None of us have mothers. Mello, I brought a map."

I snatched it from him as he brought it out of the extremely heavy bag he was carrying (hey, if we have to eat him, he should at least have _some_ muscle).

"Right," I said grudgingly. "Good. Maybe I'll give you a cookie later."

Near looked at me with an expression of something like contempt. Then he sat on the ground and dropped the backpack.

"Okay, Matt," I started. "If we hijack a car, we'll need to follow this map. I'm the oldest, so I'll drive. You can read me directions from the map, and the twit here can sit in the back seat with the luggage."

"Uh, Mello?" Matt said.

"What?"

"Can't we just take a bus or something? Hijacking cars is illegal, and none of us knows how to do it."

Near raised his hand. "I do."

Matt gave him an alarmed glance, but I ignored that bastard―I mean, that twit. "Matt, we can't take the bus," I said. "If we take the bus, we'll be seen by other passengers, and we've been missing for a day. No doubt Roger's already called the police."

"We could disguise ourselves," Matt said. "Hijacking a car would be cool, but I don't want to go to jail this early in my life."

Oh. Disguises. Duh.

"On second thought," I said, "I agree with you, Matt. I guess it's not like we're able to hijack a car anyway."

"I know how…" Near started, but I cut him off.

"We're going to have to hike out of here. We'll have to spread out if we see people, and don't make too much sound walking."

"You sound like some kind of commando or something," Matt commented dryly.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know anything!"

"Mello, you're hurting my feelings!" That comment came out pretty sarcastic.

"That's great! I hope your feelings feel like they just got chucked into a volcano!"

"They do, all thanks to you!"

"I hear footsteps," Near said.

Matt and I got quiet. At first I didn't hear anything, but then I heard voices and feet and crunching leaves.

"Make sure we've got everything," I whispered. After a survey of the ground, I said, "Okay, spread out. We don't want to be seen."

"Mello?"

"What, Near?"

"We could just ask for directions to the road," he said quietly.

"Then we'll look like lost children, and we might get sent back to the orphanage."

"Where are we going in the first place?" Near asked.

I kindly ignored his question.

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In the end, the three of us just stuck together, for fear of getting separated. Besides, Near's too weak to walk very far with that heavy backpack all on his own.

We did ask the people for directions, but they didn't seem very suspicious. They were only a few years older than I; teenagers, not concerned adults.

When we finally got to the road, we waited at the bus stop until a big red double-decker bus passed by. I'm glad I thought to bring money; otherwise we wouldn't have been able to pay the fare.

I'm sitting on the bus writing this right now, which is pretty hard, because I keep getting bumped up and down. So I'll quit writing for now.

See you later,

Mello (who is feeling slightly carsick)

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**Thanks for reading! Also, I know nothing about how English people talk (yeah, I'm just a stupid little American :D), so... if you have any suggestions that could improve my accuracy, please let me know. Again, thanks for reading! ^^**


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